


Dropping the ball

by alenie



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Cuddling, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Feminization, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pre-Slash, Safeword Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 22:36:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4155576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alenie/pseuds/alenie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky has an awful BDSM experience and seeks comfort from Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dropping the ball

**Author's Note:**

> The Steve/Bucky relationship is mostly pre-slash, but I think their feelings for each other are pretty clear. Also, the first 2k of this story is a VERY explicit, extremely detailed Bucky POV of his relatively traumatizing BDSM experience with Rumlow. If you would rather skip that, ctrl+F to "Being alone is horrible" and read from there.
> 
>  
> 
> Finally, this story is not an accurate portrayal of BDSM clubs.

Bucky's been on a roll with trying new things lately. Flogging, so good. Restraints, even better. Spanking...not so much.

Everything's new to him and it's all so exciting, so he's been accepting almost everyone who asks if he wants to play, give or take a couple creeps and that dude who wanted to stick needles in him. He figures he might as well give it all a shot; there's no better way to figure out what he's into than trying it firsthand. 

So when he's hanging around the club one day and he gets chatted up by a guy named Rumlow who makes it very clear that he's interested in humiliation—specifically, in humiliating Bucky— Bucky doesn't immediately turn him down. It doesn't hurt that Rumlow's really fucking hot. Bucky's honest with him, explains that it's not something he's tried before, but it doesn't deter him. Rumlow grins at him and says he wouldn't mind showing Bucky the ropes. 

They keep talking for a while, and Rumlow's charming and easygoing and when he invites Bucky upstairs, Bucky says yes. Before they head up, they discuss the basics—nothing that will leave any permanent marks, condoms required for oral or penetration, nothing's going in Bucky's ass without lube, Bucky's safeword is 'stop', and so on. 

Rumlow's all over him as soon as they've shut the door behind them. He's an aggressive kisser, pushing Bucky up against the wall and full-body grinding against him. Bucky likes it. He likes it even more when Rumlow grabs his wrists and pins them next to his head. 

"God, you're hot," Rumlow mutters between drugging kisses. Abruptly, he turns them and shoves Bucky in the direction of the bed. "Take off your clothes and get on the bed." 

It's weird, undressing while Rumlow just stands there and stares at him. It doesn’t feel sexy—Bucky mostly just feels exposed— but it's nothing he can't handle. 

"Fuck yeah," Rumlow says, once Bucky's shucked off his boxers and is standing there, shivering a little, fighting the urge to cover his junk with his hands. He sits on the bed and scoots back, waiting for Rumlow to make a move. Normally he's not so passive, but Rumlow has made it very clear that he's in charge tonight. He watches as Rumlow peels off his shirt and stalks closer. 

Rumlow doesn't give any warning before reaching out as fast a striking snake and shoving Bucky by the shoulders. Bucky, taken off guard, sprawls backwards into the sheets with a quiet _oof_ , his legs splayed open. He's barely gotten his breath back when Rumlow climbs on top of him and starts kissing him forcefully, rubbing his clothed hard-on against Bucky's hip. It's all so sudden, and it leaves Bucky feeling off-balance and vulnerable. 

"Gonna put this in you," Rumlow says, thrusting down. The seams of Rumlow's jeans scrape painfully against Bucky's skin. "Get you spread open for me and begging for it, and then I'm gonna give it to you, watch your needy little ass swallow me up like a bitch in heat." 

Bucky's not really sure how he feels about being called that, but then Rumlow's kissing him again and palming at Bucky's dick and Bucky moans and arches up and doesn't say anything. Whatever, it doesn't really matter if it's not his thing. He can stick it out this one time and then never do it again. It's just words. It'll be okay. 

Rumlow moves off him after only a couple minutes of kissing and playing with Bucky's dick. He sits back between Bucky's legs and at first Bucky thinks maybe Rumlow's gonna blow him, but— 

"I wanna see you spread those sweet cheeks, baby," Rumlow says. 

Bucky hesitates, embarrassed, and Rumlow frowns. 

"Let me see," he snaps. "I'm not gonna let you have my dick unless you show me where I'm putting it." 

Slowly, Bucky reaches down and spreads himself. He wants to close his legs right away, but he holds still while Rumlow looks at him. The way Rumlow stares at him is so clinical, almost like a doctor at a medical exam. It's ratcheting up Bucky's nerves, and his whole body jerks when Rumlow presses his thumb against Bucky's asshole. Rumlow laughs. 

"What're you so nervous about, huh? You don't like showing me your hole? Look at you, you're blushing like a girl." 

"'M not a girl," Bucky protests, although with the way he's got his knees spread, he feels like all this scenario is lacking is a set of those metal stirrup thingies and a doctor shoving a speculum up into him. Rumlow's staring between his legs like he expects Bucky to pop out a freaking baby at any moment. It's definitely a boner killer. 

"But you're gonna take my fingers like one, aren't 'cha?" Rumlow says, and he slides a lubed-up finger straight into Bucky's ass. Bucky clenches up in surprise around the unexpected intrusion. 

"Hot like a girl, wet like a girl…" Rumlow muses. "Shame you don't have the tits to match." 

He pulls his finger most of the way out and starts playing with the rim of Bucky's asshole, hooking his finger just inside and rubbing him from both sides. It feels good, and it makes Bucky squirm. He tries reaching down to get a hand on his dick, but Rumlow pinches his thigh hard enough to make him yelp. 

"Hand off," Rumlow says sharply. His tone jumps from chastising to sweet in the span of a second. "You're eager for it, huh? Twink like you, just begging for a good hard fuck. Don't worry, baby, I'll give you what you need." 

He casually slides a second finger into Bucky's ass and starts finger-fucking him. He's quiet for a few minutes, thank god, and then he pulls his fingers out and wipes them on Bucky's thigh. Ugh. Really? Fucking macho bullshit. 

Rumlow yanks down his zip and gets his cock out of his underwear. It's thick and veiny, and he strokes himself a couple times while Bucky watches. 

"Yeah?" he says. "You want this?" He scoots closer and taps the fat head of his dick against Bucky's hole before suddenly turning away to pick something up off the bed. 

"Gotta wear a condom," he explains. "Don’t know where you've been." He hands it to Bucky and straddles his chest. "Put it on me." 

It's an awkward angle. Rumlow's dick is right in front of his face, and Bucky has to tilt his neck up to see what he's doing. But he gets it rolled down, and Rumlow nods his approval. 

"Lookin' good," he says, and rubs his dick over Bucky's cheek and the bridge of his nose, smearing lube everywhere. Ew. Bucky holds still and hopes Rumlow will stop messing around soon and fuck him. 

Rumlow notices his distaste and smirks at him. "Don't be a prude," he says, and he slides a hand into Bucky's hair, keeping him from moving, and drags the head of his dick over Bucky's lips. "I should make you suck on it." 

Bucky doesn't really want to blow him—he knows from experience that pre-lubed condoms taste _disgusting_ —but Rumlow doesn't give him much of a choice. 

"Open up," Rumlow instructs him, nudging his dick at Bucky's mouth. When Bucky doesn't immediately comply, Rumlow slaps him across the face. "Don't make me tell you again." 

Bucky, his cheek red and stinging, slightly in shock from being unexpectedly slapped, opens his mouth. 

Rumlow's dick tastes just as gross as he had expected, and what's worse is that he doesn't have any kind of control. Rumlow's hand is still tight in his hair and he can't do anything but lie there and take it as Rumlow feeds him his dick. He's thick enough to stretch Bucky's lips around him, filling his mouth with hot, hard dick; Bucky concentrates on relaxing and breathing through his nose so he doesn't choke. His efforts are for naught when Rumlow forces his dick so deep that he hits the back of Bucky's throat and _makes_ him choke on it. He pulls back after a couple seconds but stays in Bucky's mouth while Bucky struggles for breath. 

"You're fucking hopeless," Rumlow says. "Haven't you ever sucked a cock before?" He fucks Bucky's mouth shallowly for a few thrusts before pushing in deep again, grinding into Bucky's throat while Bucky chokes and struggles for air. Bucky's on the verge of panic when Rumlow finally pulls out, his dick harder than before and shiny with spit. Bucky coughs and wheezes and sucks in a few deep breaths. 

"You asshole," he croaks. "You could've at least warned me." 

"What, and spoil the fun? You said no oral without condoms. I used a fucking condom, so what the fuck are you complaining about?" Rumlow sighs. "Fine, if you're going to be a pussy about it, I'll fuck you like one. That's what you want, isn't it?" 

He makes Bucky hold his legs up, knees pressed to his chest, while Rumlow lines himself up. He grunts when the head pops in, stretching Bucky wide around him, then pulls back out and does it again. 

"Rumlow," Bucky whines. His throat's sore and his dick's not even hard anymore, he at least deserves to get a good fuck out of this, not just a tease. A nice hard fuck while Rumlow says whatever weird shit it is that gets him off, and then Bucky can go home and make some tea and never _ever_ fuck this guy again. 

"You want me to fill you up?" Rumlow asks. "Then you ask me for it. Real nice." 

"Please, will you fuck me already?" Bucky grits out. 

"No, I don't think so," Rumlow says contemplatively. Bucky can feel pressure against his hole, but not enough to push inside. "Beg me for it." 

Fine, okay. If that's what Rumlow needs, Bucky can do it. "Please let me have your dick," he says, dragging it out into a whine. "Please, I need it, I want you inside me, I—" 

"There's my little slut," Rumlow, says, grinning down at him like a shark. He shoves in hard and Bucky's breath leaves him in a whoosh. Rumlow's still wearing his jeans and the denim is rough on Bucky's thighs. 

Despite Rumlow being, well, _Rumlow_ , it's good at first. Rumlow's dick feels good in his ass and he starts jerking Bucky off while he thrusts and he hasn't even said anything gross yet and they seem to be settling into a rhythm when he stops cold and pulls out. 

"What are you doing?" Bucky asks in bewilderment. 

"Turn over," Rumlow says. Bucky hesitantly gets up on all fours, only for Rumlow to shove him flat to the bed, pressing him down with a hand between his shoulder blades and roughly pushing back inside. And then he starts talking. 

"You'd roll over for anyone, wouldn't you," he says. "Fucking moaning for my cock like a little bitch. You need it that bad? What number am I, huh? How many dicks have you taken?" "I'm—I’m not—" Bucky protests, not even sure what he's trying to say. 

Rumlow grinds deep into his ass, the zipper of his jeans scraping Bucky's tender flesh. 

"Don't lie to me, you slut," he pants in Bucky's ear. "You should be grateful I'm letting you have my dick. I should make you thank me for it. Not everyone's willing to fuck a used-up cunt like yours." 

"Stop," Bucky whispers. He thought he could do this, he thought it would be okay, but he can't. He knows the things Rumlow's saying about him aren't true, but right now they _feel_ true and he feels completely out of control of the situation, with Rumlow's weight heavy over Bucky, pinning him down on his stomach. But his voice is muffled by the sheets, and Rumlow doesn't notice, keeps humping up into his ass. He keeps talking. 

"You ever sold this ass, baby? Let some stranger bend you over and shove their dick into you?" 

Rumlow starts jackhammering into him, grunting. It doesn't feel good anymore. 

"You're so easy for it, I bet you'd do it free. One at each end, fuck you till you're just a needy little set of holes, begging to be used. Just another dirty whore." 

" _Stop_ ," Bucky chokes out. He feels trapped and he thrashes, only serving to fuck himself back on Rumlow's dick. "Stop, stop, stop! Get off me!" 

The couple of seconds between Bucky yelling _stop_ and Rumlow actually responding drag on horrifically. The instant Rumlow pulls out, slipping free of his ass with a disgusting squelch, Bucky scrambles up the bed, trying to get away. His chest is heaving and he's crying uncontrollably, curled in on himself. Rumlow moves forward and Bucky jerks away from him, panicky and scared. 

"Christ, okay," Rumlow says. "No touching, got it. Shit, what the hell is wrong with you, what the fuck do I--just stay there, okay." 

He slides the condom off his dick and drops it on the floor. His dick is red and wet, still hard, and his hand lingers on it just a little too long for Bucky's comfort before he sighs and tucks himself back in and zips up. He grabs his shirt and leaves the room without so much as another glance in Bucky's direction. 

Being alone is horrible. Bucky can barely breathe with it. He wraps his arms around himself and shivers, vaguely wondering if he'll pass out if he can't stop hyperventilating. It feels like he might. He doesn't know where Rumlow went or if he's coming back and he can't calm down, he can't, he _can't_. 

The door opens and a man Bucky doesn't know comes into the room, followed by Rumlow. 

"Hey," the man says softly, crouching down in front of him. "Breathe with me, okay? I'm gonna count to three and then I want you to try to take a deep breath." 

On three, Bucky inhales obediently, but it comes out as gasp instead of a slow, even breath. Fuck, he can't do anything right. 

"It's okay. Just focus on me, you're doing great. Let's try again." 

The next breath is a little easier. 

"Good. Now we're gonna do another deep breath in, hold it for one...two...three. Now out." 

The man talks Bucky through each breath until the dizziness fades and Bucky's left feeling wrung out and hung to dry, but able to focus on something other than the rushing of blood in his ears. 

"There you go," the man says. "Much better. Bucky, right? I'm Sam Wilson. Rumlow here says you panicked in the middle of a scene. Can you tell me about it?" 

Bucky shakes his head tightly, casting an uneasy glance at Rumlow, who's standing off to the side with his arms crossed over his chest. Bucky can't look at him without reliving what just happened, and it makes him feel sick to his stomach. Sam frowns. 

"I think you'd better go," he tells Rumlow, in a tone that brooks no room for argument. "I'll be in touch." 

Rumlow leaves without a word. 

"Thanks," Bucky manages. 

"Not a problem." 

Sam moves closer to him and Bucky flinches. 

"Don't touch me," he begs. There's lube between his thighs and smeared over his face and his ass still feels open and used and he can't bear to have another stranger's hands on him. 

"I'm just going to put this blanket around your shoulders, okay? That's it. No touching, I promise." 

He waits for Bucky to give him a shaky nod before draping the blanket over his shoulders. He doesn't touch Bucky at all, just like he said, and Bucky's grateful. He clutches the blanket around his naked body—he'd thought the room was plenty warm earlier, but now it's fucking freezing and he's shivering nonstop. 

Sam sits down next to him on the bed, leaving plenty of space between them, and hands him a bottle of water. Bucky fiddles with the cap but his hands feel stiff and clumsy and he can't get it open. 

"Lemme get that for you," Sam says. He opens the bottle and hands it back. 

Sam sits quietly while he drinks his water. It helps some, but also--he wants to-- 

"I want to go home," he chokes out. If he can just get home, curl up under the covers and hide-- 

"Okay," Sam agrees. "Is there someone I can call to come pick you up? I'm not comfortable letting you drive right now." 

Somehow Bucky blurting out Steve’s name leads to Sam finding his pants where they're lying discarded on the floor, digging through the pockets and finding Bucky's phone, and watching as Sam scrolls through his contacts and dials Steve’s number. 

“Steve Rogers?” Sam says when Steve picks up, and Bucky can’t tell what Steve’s saying, but he can make out a general air of worry and concern. 

Bucky half-listens to Sam explaining that no, Bucky’s not hurt, but he's not fit to drive right now, and could Steve come get him? Bucky’s tired, and sad, and eventually he stops listening and slides down to curl up on the bed with his blanket. Sam's folded his clothes and placed them next to him, but Bucky doesn't feel like he has the energy to attempt dressing himself. 

He’s not sure how much time has passed when there’s a knock on the doorframe and Steve steps into the room, all broad shoulders and messy hair, like he’s been running his hands through it. 

“Bucky!” he says, but Sam steps forward to intercept him, drawing Steve away to the other side of the room and holding a whispered conversation with him. They’re talking about him, Bucky knows, but he doesn’t care. He at least manages to sit up so he'll look less pathetic. 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve says, once Sam finally sends him over. He sits down next to Bucky and looks at him with big worried eyes. 

"Can I give you a hug?" he asks. "It's okay to say no, I won't touch you if you don't want me to—oh," he says in surprise, as Bucky reaches out for him, holding on to his blanket with one hand to keep it from falling off. 

Steve hugs him tight. Bucky tucks his face into Steve's shoulder and lets himself be held. 

“How about we get you dressed?” Steve suggests, softly rubbing Bucky's back through the blanket. 

“Okay,” Bucky says. His voice is rough from crying and from what Rumlow did to him, but Steve doesn’t mention it. He helps Bucky dress like he’s a little kid, tugging his shirt over his head and doing up his belt for him after Bucky clumsily pulls on his underwear and jeans. Steve even kneels down and ties his shoes. 

"Sam wants to ask you a couple questions before we go home, Buck. It'll be real short, I promise, and then we can leave. You think you can do that?" 

"I—I guess. You won't go anywhere?" 

"I'll be right here with you." 

Sam asks him, in a calm, serious voice, if Rumlow had done anything that Bucky had not given prior consent to. 

Bucky shakes his head. "I just—it wasn't—" He starts to feel panicky again, grasping at words. 

"Okay, it's okay, you don't have to explain right now if it's too hard. Can you tell me what Rumlow did after you ended the scene?" 

"He…he tried to touch me, and I didn't want him to. He got dressed, and then he left." 

Sam's lips thin. "Did he tell you where he was going?" 

Bucky shakes his head. 

"He just _left you there_?" Steve breaks in, sounding outraged. "All by yourself?" He turns to Sam. "Is that it? Can I take him home now?" 

"That's it for now," Sam affirms. "Thank you for talking to me, Bucky." 

Steve helps him up off the bed and then doesn’t let go of his hand. It feels nice. Like Bucky doesn’t have to worry about anything; he can just follow Steve. He goes where Steve leads him, eyes on the ground as they go down the stairs and out through the parking lot, lets Steve help him into the passenger seat of Steve's car and buckle up his seatbelt for him. 

Steve talks at him during the drive home, but it's mostly mindless chatter, and he doesn't ask any questions, which Bucky is grateful for. 

Bucky's not sure what to expect once they're inside, but Steve seems to know what he's doing. He sits Bucky down on the bench just inside the entryway and takes off his shoes for him while Bucky sits numbly and stares at the wall. 

"Buck?" Steve says. He sounds like he's said it more than once. "I'm going to put on a movie. Do you want to go change into something more comfortable?" 

"Okay," Bucky says. 

"If you need help with anything, I'll be right here." 

Bucky picks out a pair of sweatpants and a warm dark gray henley. He's still unpleasantly sticky between his legs, so after he undresses he gets a couple tissues and briefly runs them under the tap before reaching down to scrub himself clean. Just the act of touching himself there is enough to make him shudder, his breath catching in his throat. He finishes in a hurry and pulls on a clean pair of briefs. 

Steve springs to attention when Bucky emerges from his room. 

"Come sit down," he says encouragingly. "I'll be right back, I'm just gonna go get something." 

He disappears briefly into Bucky's bedroom, which makes Bucky feel unaccountably anxious even though there's not really anything to see, other than his dirty clothes in the hamper, but quickly reappears with his arms full of pillows and blankets. He uses them to build a nest around Bucky on the couch, tucking a duvet around his shoulders and filling every empty space with pillows. 

Steve bustles around the room, starting up what looks like _The Princess Bride_ on the DVD player and closing the blinds and just generally fussing, before he runs out of things to do and awkwardly hovers in front of Bucky. 

"Um, Sam said, well, I mean—can I cuddle you while we watch the movie?" he blurts out. "Would that be okay?" 

Bucky has to take a second to process what Steve's saying. He feels better than he did half an hour ago, but he's still a bit fuzzy around the edges, and his hands won't stop shaking. Cuddling. Steve wants to cuddle him. He blinks up at Steve, who has his hands knotted together in front of him, looking worried. 

"Okay," Bucky says, and Steve lets out a relieved-sounding sigh. He slots himself into the blanket nest at Bucky's side and curls an arm around his shoulders, gently guiding Bucky so that his head's on Steve's shoulder. It's not bad, Bucky decides. Steve is kind of reassuringly solid. It helps that he's the complete opposite of Rumlow—buff and blonde and clean-shaven, whereas Rumlow has a wiry build and dark hair and beard. 

He lets himself inch closer as the movie progresses, until he's as tight up against Steve's side as he can get. 

"Here, put your legs over mine," Steve suggests. He's almost in Steve's lap now, and he can rest his head on Steve's chest. He's got both of Steve's arms around him and a warm blanket covering them both and for the first time since he said _stop_ , he doesn't feel scared or out of control anymore. He closes his eyes. 

He wakes with a start when Westley screams, but Steve is right there holding him, apologizing and stroking his big hands over Bucky's back. 

"You want me to turn the movie off?"Steve asks. 

"Nah. 'S okay," Bucky says, settling back against Steve's chest. 

"As you wish," Steve answers, surprising a rusty laugh out of him. 

"Does that make me Buttercup?" 

"Yep," Steve says, and starts singing "Build Me Up Buttercup" at him. 

"Nooo, stop." Bucky twists around and tries to get his hand over Steve's mouth. Steve fends him off easily, but he's laughing too hard to keep singing, and then they're just grinning at each other like a couple of loons and Bucky's suddenly very aware of how close they are, their faces just inches apart. 

He drops his gaze, too nervous to meet Steve's eyes. 

"Hey, you okay?" Steve asks, squeezing his shoulder. 

"Yeah," Bucky says quietly, looking down at his hands. Steve shifts and cups the back of his neck and Bucky's whole being focuses in on that one spot, to Steve's hand warm and heavy on the nape of his neck. His eyes fall closed and his head tilts forward and his body goes limp and quiet under Steve's touch. 

"Bucky?" Steve says. 

"Feels good." 

"Yeah?" Steve's voice is hushed. He squeezes gently, like he's giving Bucky a massage, and Bucky exhales and rests his head on Steve's chest. 

Steve's thumb sweeps over the side of Bucky's neck and Bucky shudders. "It's okay, I've got you. I'm so proud of you, Buck. You're doing so well." 

Steve keeps petting his neck and holding him close, praising him, telling him how good he is. Bucky feels like he's floating and he checks out a little, just letting himself drift along in a warm, happy cloud. 

"Bucky? Hey, Buck." 

"Mmm?" Bucky blinks awake. His face is smushed into Steve's shirt..which he's totally drooled on. Gross. 

Steve's got his phone in one hand. "I was thinking of ordering some takeout," he explains. "Are you in more of a pizza mood or a Thai mood?" 

Bucky rubs at his eyes, confused. "What time is it?" 

Steve checks his phone. "Almost six thirty," he reports, and Bucky nearly has a heart attack, because that means Steve's been here for _three hours_. 

"Shit, you didn't have to stay here so long," he says guiltily. 

Steve shrugs. "You'd do the same for me. So, pizza or Thai?" 

Bucky chooses pizza, and untangles himself from Steve to go use the bathroom while Steve places their order. He's feeling much more clearheaded now, enough so to be embarrassed that he fell apart so spectacularly that he needed Steve to put him back together. Instead of going back to the living room, he detours into his bedroom and paces uneasily around the room. 

"Buck?" Steve says from the hall. He must've come to look for him when Bucky didn't come back. His face falls when he sees Bucky's expression. "Hey, no, what's wrong?" 

Bucky shrugs. 

"Was it something I did?" 

Of course Steve would think it's his fault. 

He shakes his head. 

"Okay," Steve says slowly. "Well, in that case, I think you should stop hiding and come watch _Say Yes to the Dress_ with me while we wait for the pizza to get here." 

"You have shitty taste in TV," Bucky complains, but he heads for the living room anyway. Steve stops him with a hand on his shoulder. 

"I promise I won't make you talk about it if you don't want to, but I just want to say that what happened was not your fault, I don't judge you for it, and I'm really fucking glad you trusted me enough to let me take care of you. Okay?" 

"Okay," Bucky mumbles. His face feels like it's on fire, he's blushing so hard. 

"Good," Steve says. "I'm gonna hug you now, unless you tell me not to." 

Steve hesitates, and then, when it's clear Bucky's not going to turn him down, he wraps him up in a bear hug, nearly lifting him off his feet. 

"There," Steve says, once he's hugged the stuffing out of Bucky. "Better?" 

"Yeah. Thanks." 

"Don't worry about it," Steve says, and his smile is soft and maybe a little sad. 

Steve slings an arm around his shoulders when they sit back down on the couch, and tugs him closer. 

"You don't have to do that," Bucky says guiltily, even as he relaxes against Steve's side. "I feel okay now." 

"Sam said physical touch was important," Steve says stubbornly. "So unless you don't like it, I'm fine where I am." 

"What else did Sam say?" 

Steve scrunches his forehead and thinks for a moment. "Not to leave you alone, not to pressure you for information, make sure you're warm enough, give you positive feedback, make sure you stay hydrated, and don't let you skip dinner," he lists off. "I think that's everything. How am I doing so far?" 

"Pretty good," Bucky admits. "I dunno what I'd've done without you." 

Steve doesn't respond, but his arms tighten around Bucky, just for a moment. 

They sit together watching Steve's dumb TV show until the pizza arrives, at which point Steve has to get up to pay. Bucky's side feels cold where they're not touching anymore. He pulls one of the throw blankets into his lap and runs his fingers through the tasseled fringe while he listens to Steve exchanging cheerful small talk with the delivery guy. Probably tipping him outrageously, knowing Steve. 

By the time they've finished nibbling on the remains of the pizza, it's almost eight o'clock, and Steve asks Bucky if he wants him to spend the night. 

"No, go home," Bucky insists. "You've been here all afternoon and I'm fine now, really." 

"Are you sure?" 

" _Steve_ ," Bucky says. "Go home already." 

Steve finally goes, after making Bucky promise to call him if he needs anything. 

Five minutes later, there's a knock on his door. 

It's Steve. Of course it's Steve. 

"I just don't think you should be alone tonight," Steve says, like he never left and they're just continuing their earlier conversation. "I'll worry about you all night if I'm not here, Buck, I really will." 

"You're like a mother hen," Bucky huffs, but he lets Steve back inside. "Fine, I'll get you some blankets and stuff and you can crash on the couch." 

"Thanks, Buck," Steve says with a bright smile. 

It's still early, so Bucky puts on another movie and lets Steve cuddle him again. He's going to miss this, now that he knows how good it feels to have Steve's arms around him. 

Once the movie ends, Bucky reluctantly pulls away from Steve and goes into the hall to fetch a spare pillow and some blankets for the couch. He lends Steve a spare toothbrush and a pair of sweats to sleep in as well. 

Bucky was telling the truth earlier: he does feel fine. He's okay when he brushes his teeth, okay when he changes into his pajamas, okay when he turns off the lights and gets in bed. 

Less than two hours after he falls asleep, he wakes up panicking, feeling like he can't breathe. He'd dreamed Rumlow was holding him down with an arm across his throat, fucking him relentlessly, cutting off his breathing so Bucky was unable to tell him to stop. 

He turns on his bedside lamp with shaky hands and scoots back against the headboard. He tries every trick he knows to calm himself down, but none of them work and finally he gives up and gets out of bed. 

In the living room, Steve is sprawled over the couch, fast asleep. He's taller than the couch is long and his legs are dangling off one end. It's adorable. 

"Steve?" Bucky says softly. Steve doesn't wake up. Bucky shifts his weight back and forth, weighing his options. It seems so silly to wake Steve up just because he's had a nightmare, but he doesn't want to go back into his bedroom all by himself either. 

There's an extra blanket folded over the back of the couch. Bucky curls up in the oversized armchair across from the couch and spreads it out over himself. Moonlight is filtering through the blinds, providing enough light to easily see Steve. Even if he's not awake, it's still a comfort to have him so close by. He puts his head down and falls back asleep listening to Steve's faint snoring. 

In the morning, he wakes to an awful crick in his neck and Steve saying his name. 

"Bucky?" 

Steve's sitting up, a blanket pooling around his waist. He sounds confused. 

"Did you sleep in the armchair?" 

"Yeah," Bucky admits, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"Why? Did something happen? Why didn't you wake me up?" 

"It was just a bad dream." 

"You should've woken me, I wouldn't have minded." 

Bucky shrugs. "I was okay on my own." 

Steve's mouth turns down at the edges. "But you don't have to be on your own, Buck." 

"Can we not talk about this right now? I'm hungry; I just wanna eat breakfast." 

"Yeah, of course," Steve says. "I was thinking pancakes? Or maybe French toast. Do you have any bread?" 

Bucky lets Steve make them pancakes, since he seems so goddamned determined to be helpful. Steve even puts chocolate chips in the batter, just how Bucky likes them best. 

Steve keeps treating him with kid gloves all through breakfast, until finally Bucky snaps. "Could you stop fucking acting like I'm breakable?" he says sharply. Steve's eyes go big and round at his tone. "You're acting like I'm—like I'm a _victim_ or something, but I agreed to have sex with Rumlow, Steve, I told him it was okay and it's my own fucking fault I couldn't handle it so just—just stop, okay?" 

His voice breaks at the very end and he puts his hands in his lap and clenches them into fists, trying to remain in control of himself. 

"Bucky, it is _not your fault_ ," Steve says, shocked. "God, you should've seen yourself yesterday. No matter what you said yes to, you didn't ask for _that_. Jesus. You were—I was so scared, Buck. The way you looked—" 

Steve pauses to take a deep breath. His eyes are wet. 

"I was scared," he repeats. "I'm sorry if I've been overbearing." 

Steve stops talking and stabs fiercely at a chunk of pancake and shoves it in his mouth. Bucky still has a quarter of a pancake left on his own plate; he eats it mechanically. He's already ashamed of himself for his outburst and terrified of driving Steve away. 

They're doing the dishes together in silence when Bucky finally speaks up. 

"Steve, I'm sorry," he says. He keeps his eyes on the plate he's drying. "I'm glad you're here. I shouldn't've said those things." 

"Don't worry about it, Buck." 

Bucky nods, carefully sets the plate down and picks up another one. 

"Hey, can you please look at me?" 

Bucky reluctantly drags his eyes up to meet Steve's. 

"I've never been in this kind of situation before," Steve says. "So if I'm doing anything wrong, if I'm not giving you what you need—I need you to tell me. All I know is what Sam told me, and he was pretty clear about different people wanting different kinds of…aftercare? Is that the word?" 

He looks expectantly at Bucky. 

"Yeah, that's it. But, um, I don't…I've only been doing it for a couple of months. I'm kind of still figuring out what I like and what I don't." 

He laughs dryly. "Guess I can add another item to the 'do not like' list after yesterday, huh?" 

"Oh?" Steve says, and then immediately backtracks. "Shit, sorry, that's none of my business." 

"No, um, it's okay, it was just…" Bucky begins. He can do this. He can tell Steve. It's not a big deal. "He, um…" 

He flinches when Steve touches his arm, and Steve hastily withdraws his hand. 

"Can you put the plate down?" Steve asks, his voice exceptionally soft. Bucky looks down and sees that he's clenching the plate so hard his knuckles are white. He sets it on the counter. Without something to hold onto, his hands start shaking. 

"Buck, I'm sorry," Steve says, and something breaks inside Bucky. 

"Steve," he chokes out. "Steve, I can't, I _can't_." 

Steve makes an aborted movement toward him. Bucky wordlessly presses himself into Steve's arms, curling his hands into Steve's shirt. Steve's arms go around him, one smoothing down his spine, the other cradling the back of his head while Bucky breathes in jerky gasps and trembles. 

"Just say the word, and I'll beat the crap out him," Steve promises. 

Bucky manages a watery laugh. "You would, wouldn't you." 

"Damn straight." 

"I just never wanna see him again." 

"That's understandable," Steve says. 

Bucky sighs. He's stiff from sleeping in the armchair, he can't seem to get his emotional responses under control, and he feels guilty about how incredibly needy he's being right now. He's such a fucking mess. 

"Sorry," he says again. 

"It's okay. How about we get you back to bed? You look exhausted." 

"I've only been up for like an hour," Bucky protests, but he lets Steve lead him down the hall and into his room. Steve supervises him getting into bed and even fusses with the covers, making sure they're snug around Bucky's shoulders. 

"You want me here, or in the living room?" Steve asks. 

"What?" Bucky says, propping himself up on his elbows, dislodging the blankets. "Steve, no, you don't have to stay. Don't you have stuff to do?" 

"Not today," Steve says. "You want me here or in the living room, Buck?" 

"You're too stubborn for your own good, Stevie," Bucky informs him. 

Steve just raises his eyebrows. 

"Jesus, okay. Here. You can stay here." 

He huffs in exasperation and burrows back under the covers. He can't see Steve, but he feels the bed dip when Steve climbs on and settles back against the headboard. He thinks from the noises that Steve must be messing around on his phone. He yawns. Steve was right, he _is_ tired. He squirms around, trying to get comfortable, kicking his feet. 

"Stop fidgeting and go to sleep, Buck." 

Bucky shuffles around until he can feel the press of Steve's leg against his upper back. It's good, knowing that Steve's right there next to him. 

"You're so fucking bossy," he says sleepily. 

"You love it," Steve says, and ruffles his hair. Bucky pushes his head up into Steve's hand and is rewarded with an absentminded scalp massage. "Now shut up and sleep."

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at islenskur.tumblr.com


End file.
